


Kicking In

by Flynncantation



Category: South Park
Genre: Copious Lube, M/M, bathroom fucking, drugs and alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 10:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15362520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flynncantation/pseuds/Flynncantation
Summary: Tweek only went to this shit-show party for one guy. Things turn out pretty well for him.





	Kicking In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [metrophobic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metrophobic/gifts).



> Happy birthday, mate! Didn’t know til today so saucy bathroom fuck is dedicated to you! Congrats on another successful orbital rotation X

 

Tweek’s memories feel like water, quick to trickle through his fingers, intangible. All he wants is a bump of coke to snap him back to sobriety, but this party is boring and its relatively innocuous attendees are a swathe of vapid art elitists turning their noses up just at the mere sniff of hard liquor.

He’d consider them nauseating if he didn’t already feel nauseous from copious glasses of Margaritas and Lemon Drop Martinis. Long ago losing count of exactly how much he’s had, without so much as a “goodbye, good talk” and in desperate search of a quick one, he’d made the decision to abruptly leave the side of the short pink-haired dude desperately trying to philosophise his way into his pants.

The music is a headache-inducing and consistent booming base interspersed with nonsensical synth sounds. It’s entirely inappropriate for a fucking  _ garden party _ , Tweek thinks, but these art people avoid conformity like it’s venomous fangs will pierce through the veil of idiosyncrasy and warp them back into regular members of society.

Whatever regular is.

“Why are there no god damn drugs at this party?” Tweek growls to himself, yelping when he collides with the backdoor doorframe in a laughable attempt to walk through the space in between and into the kitchen. Grateful no one seems to notice, he snatches a can of Red Bull off the counter and knocks it back, hoping the sugar will liven him up in the interim until he can get his hands on something stronger.

He isn’t sure what possessed him to come in the first place. Right now he could be relaxing back at his dorm, lighting up a spliff and chilling out to  _ Dark Side of the Moon _ .

But no. No, he’s absolutely certain what possessed him to dress up like he knew a stitch about appearing fashionable – mute pink chinos and a white, short sleeved button up shirt, paired with brown leather boat shoes. He even managed to tame his hair into lively but manageable curls. Bebe, his bestie (her words), said he looked “fine”. Not  _ fine- _ fine, but fiiiiine.

Her words again.

In the kitchen there are clusters of artsy folk occupying every corner and every seat. Tweek hoped maybe  _ someone _ was doing a line off that extraordinarily expensive looking granite worktop, but no. They’re all sensible and adult, chit-chatting about  _ solipsism _ and  _ epicureanism _ ,  _ Aristotle  _ this and  _ Descartes  _ that.

In the living room beyond its  _ Pollock  _ and  _ Dada  _ and the reflection in art from the postmodern world.

Now Tweek really wants to hurl. He’s not having a good time. And it’s not fair because he’s only here for one reason: Craig Tucker.

Freshman fashion major. Hot as fuck. Gay as hell. And Tweek hasn’t caught sight of him  _ anywhere _ .

It’s fucking annoying.

Tweek wobbles from room to room, hoping to find  _ someone _ who might be able to fix him up. But everywhere he turns he’s met with insufferable philosophers and musicians and artists throwing around sickly pet names like “darling” and “sweetie”. And besides, weren’t they supposed to be the kind to be into existential experiences of the mind-altering variety?

“What the fuck,” Tweek mutters when he comes across yet another bedroom. Now upstairs he realises how desperately he needs to piss, but the place is a labyrinth and boy is he ever twatted. 

The next room he bursts into is yet, another, bedroom. But just as he’s about to scream in frustration he spots the object of his desire (wet dreams, mid-day masturbatory sessions, porn searches) sprawled across the bed, clothed in skin tight, shredded leather trousers and a deep blue shirt unbuttoned to his abs. He’s barefoot, a pair of Ray-Bans are snug atop his head, and between his lips - gorgeous, full, pink...nngh  - hangs a fat, half-smoked joint.

Tweek near jumps him then and there. Instead he shrieks, “have you got any coke!?”

Craig’s eyebrows lift. He glances at the man slumped beside him, a rugged attractive blond Tweek often sees at Craig’s side. Jealousy tickles his insides. Wonders if that’s his boyfriend.

“I know you,” Craig answers, scrutinising him. Tweek shrieks, nearly falling over his feet in his eagerness to get into the room and closer to the bed, especially now Craig has directly addressed him.

“You do!?”

Craig sits up, the joint hanging idly between his fingers. Tweek follows his tongue as it slides out and twice sweeps across his lips before darting back inside that hot, wet, delicious mouth oh God, he’s gonna get a boner right here.

“Didn’t you like have an interview with NASA?” Craig asks, cocking his head and taking a slow drag. Tweek wants to suck it all up when he breathes out swirls of smoke, fantasises about absorbing a slither of Craig’s DNA. He keeps his cool, most of it (parts of him are getting heat-stroke), tugging a curl. 

It takes a moment for Tweek to compute, surprised Craig would have any idea about something like NASA when he’s a Fashion major. He fans away the smoke and dumbly says, “What?” before coming to his senses. “Oh for the magazine…yeah, I did. How do -ack- how do you know?”

Craig seems to brighten, swinging his legs to the edge of the bed and standing right in front of him, way too close, but Tweek doesn’t dare to move, feeling as though his feet have taken permanent residence in that very spot and will remain there until Craig tells him to do otherwise.

“I’m a subscriber,” Craig says casually, taking another long drag and then offering it to Tweek who shakes his head frantically, holding his hands up.

“Need to come up, not down,” he says, wanting so, so, so badly to tear that shirt off Craig’s shoulders and touch every inch of bronze skin and shove him back onto the bed and-- “Need to…need to not be so drunk anymore, I can’t see straight.”

“I can never see straight,” Craig says, accessorised with a wink Tweek is  _ certain _ is flirting and not just his imagination but he’s not very good at reading signals and really right now he’s a drunk nerdy fraud at an arts convention.

Craig looks back at his friend. “Ken, you got anything on you for the cutie here?”

Tweek’s face explodes with heat. The other guy - Kenny - rolls his head from side-to-side, leaning forward to rifle through the rucksack between his spread thighs. “Think I can find something for the occasion in here,” he drawls, digging through a bunch of drug paraphernalia, some Tweek couldn’t even name, and he’s familiar with more than his fair share.

Kenny produces a little bag filled with white powder and tosses it in Tweek’s direction, who fumbles with it before he has it secure in his hand. “One condition, gotta share,” Kenny says, grinning toothily. “If you ask nice I bet Craig’ll let you snort a line off his ass.”

“Shut up,” Craig grumbles, taking another long drag from his joint and exhaling. He turns to head back to the bed, pausing to look over his shoulder. “I would though.”

Tweek swears he’s about to spontaneously combust. He looks around for an acceptable space to crack out a line, trying not to think too hard about the idea of tidying one up on Craig’s bare backside so the awkward half-boner he currently has doesn’t ping up to level 99. 

And then Craig, crawling -  _ crawling - _ back onto the bed with his ass in the air sits and pats the space beside him. “Well don’t just stand there,” he says sharply when Tweek barely blinks. “Come keep us company. Bet you hate this party as much as us.”

Tweek quickly nods, shucking his shoes at the side of the bed and unceremoniously flopping beside his crush. 

“Here,” Craig continues, and then he plucks the little bag out of Tweek’s fingers and lithely stretches across him. Tweek appreciates the arch of his back, silk shirt revealing every curve and dip as Craig tips the powder onto the bedside table. Casting a sultry look Tweek’s way he slips a credit card from his pocket, lightly tapping out two lines before rolling a ten from his other pocket. 

When he dips low, ass practically in Tweek’s face, Tweek has to swallow the squeak of arousal in his throat, instinctively reaching under him to steady his hips - any excuse to touch, and Craig doesn’t seem to mind - whilst Craig snorts a line, rubbing his nose with the heel of his hand when he sits back again. Playfully nudging Tweek he says, a little more nasally than before, “your turn.”

_ Yes _ , Tweek thinks, diving sideways and inhaling the line in one single movement. It burns but it’s good, and it takes only a minute for it to hit, to bring him back up to Earth and settle his spinning head. 

Which is both good and bad, because now he recognises the fact he’s sitting beside the most gorgeous piece of ass he’s ever seen, on a  _ bed _ . A plush bed with an unnecessary number of pillows, Egyptian cotton, silk throws, the works. 

He doesn’t even know whose house this is, but right now he couldn’t care less.

And there’s Craig’s warm palm on his thigh, lips wrapped back around his joint, taking a long, slow drag like he’s sucking cock, not a spliff.

“Wanna fuck me?”

“What!?”

“Want. To. Fuck. Me?”

“I-I gotta piss!”

“...huh.”

“I mean yes! Yes, I really do!” Tweek cries, cheeks hot. Christ he’s only been there five minutes and he’s already fumbling. “B-but I really do gotta piss first.”

Craig shrugs, looking over at Kenny. “Bathroom?” he says casually and Kenny shrugs. 

Craig plucks up Tweek’s hand, winding their fingers together and shimmying to his feet, pulling Tweek up with him. “Bathroom it is then. It has a lock at least.”

“Wait, what!?” Tweek yelps, his heart rapid in his chest for a number of reasons. “You wanna do it in a Bathroom!?”

Oh god is that ever hot. And Tweek has had encounters in the past but nothing,  _ nothing _ , at all like this. He has no idea how this happened but there’s no way he’s planning to waste the opportunity. 

“Stop complaining, babe,” Craig says, tugging him through hallways until he finds the right door and ushers Tweek inside.

Kenny follows. Tweek gives him the look of a startled cat, but Kenny merely smiles toothily. “Don’t worry, just here for the show. Pretend I’m not even here,” he remarks casually, as if he hasn’t just said he’s going to stay and watch his friend get railed in a bathroom by a total stranger. He perches on an ottoman and rolls another joint. 

“Thought you needed to go,” Craig says and pinches Tweek’s ass, startling him into unzipping his pants and pissing with the speed of a racehorse. Whilst he’s cleaning himself off, Craig is rifling through cupboards in search of lube. There’s already a strip of condoms in his hand and he tosses one over. 

Dumbly Tweek stands around like a spare part, dick hanging out half-hard and just as confused and overwhelmed as he is.  _ Don’t worry, man  _ he thinks to it, then realises he’d said it out loud and looks between the two other guys in the room. Only Kenny had heard, but he simply fires him a quizzical look and continues with his joint. 

“Ah-ha!” Craig says when he hits the jackpot, finding an unopened bottle - raspberry flavoured too. He places it on the cistern of the toilet, ready and waiting. 

And then he’s all over Tweek, slamming him into the wall and kissing him sloppily, noisily, the sound of the wet smack of lips zipping straight to Tweek’s dick. 

Something in him remembers what he’s supposed to do. Switching their positions he shoves a thigh up between Craig’s legs, gripping his hips and dragging him up and down it. Craig mewls, taken by surprise. His own hands card their way along the wide expanse of Tweek’s shoulders, trickling up his slim neck and into wild blond hair starting to stick to his forehead. 

When he tugs it Tweek growls, yanking him higher up onto his thigh, wants to pull him off his feet but he’s a short-ass and Craig is a damn beanpole. 

“Mm got some energy back, huh?” he murmurs against Tweek’s lips, rocking up against his thigh. It’s slim but all muscle that disappears around his middle where there’s a sweet little hint of a muffin top (the result of  _ far _ too many cream cakes). Craig makes a soft hum when he finds it, gently pinching. 

He’s surprised when Tweek pulls his hands away. “Hey,” he murmurs, tentatively putting his hands back where they were. “Don’t be self-conscious. I love all of this.”

When he squeezes, Tweek has to shove away those lingering insecurities and focus on the moment, the dulcet timbre of Craig’s voice. Despite his brashness, Craig apparently has a softer side, too, and it sets Tweek at ease, coaxing him down from his concerns . 

Stepping back he frantically unbuttons his shirt, but doesn’t take it off. Craig, slumped against the wall - tongue practically hanging out of his mouth - eagerly appraises him, eyes alight with nothing but arousal.

“Wow, okay,” he says. Tweek laughs a little and slides back in to kiss him again, gentler this time, his palm smoothing over the expanse of Craig’s bare chest to find a dark nipple already peaked with interest. 

“Were you half undressed when you got here?” Tweek asks breathlessly, wetting his thumb and tickling his right nipple, pressing fleeting kisses to the firm line of Craig’s jaw. Craig grins and Tweek can feel it.

“Knew you were  _ coming _ ,” Craig answers. Tweek is startled, pulling back to look him in the eyes, wondering if he’s only teasing. There’s only a shimmer of challenge, a challenge Tweek is assured he’s going to overcome when the time arrives. And he’s hurtling towards that time so fast it feels like he’s about to crash. . 

“How did—?”

Craig grabs a handful of his dick, pumping the now fully hard length and growling, “are you gonna fuck me or not, honey?”

Tweek swallows, his tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth, thick and heavy the way his cock feels as Craig tears off the rest of his clothes and turns his back to him, leaning down.

He grips the sides of the cistern and offers his ass like it’s the cherry on top. From his corner, Kenny wolf whistles and is met with a middle finger from Craig over his shoulder. Tweek unwraps the condom and rolls it down over his dick, hissing in anticipation.   

When Craig passes him the lube and their fingers brush, Tweek’s breath hitches. It takes him by surprise given the circumstances, and he knows that he’s already free falling into something that’s going to make him or break him, but it’s too late to care, too late to think about what he’s about to do. It’s not like he doesn’t want it, and as much as it might hurt, he can take being a one-off just for this chance. .

“M’already pretty wet and loose so don’t take too long…” Craig says softly. Tweek’s eyes drop to his ass, his hole on display, wet and pink and slathered with a generous amount of lube. “I like it wet.” He over-pronounces the “T” and Tweek swallows, scrambling to line up two fingers, hand trembling. 

Sliding them down the length of Craig’s back Tweek firmly shoves two fingertips against his asshole, roughly massaging him, delighting in the sensation of him already twitching. “Greedy much?” Tweek mumbles, nudging both fingers inside him with barely any resistance, sighing at the heat, the flex of muscle. 

“Mmmm, love it,” Craig whimpers, looking over his shoulder, wishing he could watch those fingers smoothly press in and out and in and out, keening when they push down firmly, against his prostate nice and hard. “O-oh fuck—- Tweek, put your fucking dick in me already.”

Somewhere far away someone mutters, “such a cockwhore.”

Tweek happily adheres, sliding his fingers free and applying a cursory amount of lube to his cock, swiping up and down twice and then slipping it up and under, riding Craig’s taint, getting it wet with him. Craig gasps, his own hand loosely gripping himself, legs spreading even wider.

Tweek grips him by the back of the neck, squeezing, urging his upper half lower and his lower half higher. Craig looks as gorgeous, as filthy and wanton, as Tweek had expected him to look bent over expectantly like the little whore he is; when Tweek pushes inside all at once Craig keens, back taught like a bow, his arms held straight to leverage his ass higher. 

Tweek can’t help himself. Eager,  _ desperate _ , he fucks him swift and hard, one hand still gripping his neck and the other holding tight to his bony hip. Everything is alight from the top of his head to his toes. Everything is good. Everything is warm and fantastic and hot,  thrust , thrust, thrust. So much energy to release, Tweek can feel it pounding in every limb, can feel the blood racing through his veins. 

Craig can barely move, with his fingers clutching tight to the edge of the toilet cistern, clattering and shifting with every shove and thrust. Alongside it there’s only the sound of hot, wet panting and the squish of Tweek’s dick railing Craig like a sailor six months at sea.

“Gonna come-“ Craig yelps, and dimly Tweek is aware he hasn’t even jerked himself and fuck he finds that so hot that it topples him right over then and there, pulling out to splatter tendrils of foam white cum all over Craig’s crack and back just as Craig empties himself all over the toilet seat, whimpering needily. 

Ass still twitching Tweek smoothly slides in his middle finger to milk the very last globs from him, groaning at his hole spasming around him until Craig sags, holding onto the cistern to keep himself standing. 

“Nngh,” he grumbles, turning to flop down right in his own cum. Tweek is leaning with his shoulder against the wall, panting noisily, cheeks lit and hair tousled. His limp dick hangs happily between his legs. 

“You didn’t come in me,” Craig whines, and he’s pouting. _Pouting_.   

“Wha—?”

“Come in me next time,” he says sulkily, looking over at Kenny who’s dick is also hanging between his legs, almost as happy as Tweek’s. “Enjoy the show?”

“What do you think?” Kenny responds, wiping himself off and tucking himself away. Stretching, he spritely hops to his feet and tidies his clothes, looking exactly as he had before they started.. “Shall we get outta here?”

Craig sighs and nods. “Yeah, this party is boring.” He fixes Tweek with a look. “You coming, babe?”

“You want me to—?”

Craig rises to his feet, pressing his finger toTweek’s lips and murmuring,“I said  _ next time, _ didn’t I?”  
  



End file.
